


A Genius Among Men

by Eleanor_Fenyx



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendlies, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock AU, Uni!lock AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleanor_Fenyx/pseuds/Eleanor_Fenyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's having a hard time of fitting in at University though thankfully nobody is being absolutely horrid to him like the people at his old secondary school. Then he meets John Watson and everything seems to change for the better, but will somebody come in to wreck all of that charmed life for our darling little sociopath? (Rated M for later chapters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New School, Old Problems?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, this is hopefully going to be a fairly long and in-depth fic and this is just part of what I originally wrote for chapter 1 if that's any indication, I hope you enjoy and if you like it (or even hate it) please please please feel free to give me a bit of feedback even if it's just one word, it all helps keep me motivated, so it would definitely be appreciated :) Also, I'll be taking requests for possible filler chapters or even separate one-shots in this same AU universe that wouldn't necessarily work in the fic. Basically, ANY requests would be great since I'm trying to get back into writing fanfiction as much as I used to, so let me know what you think you guys :) Hope you enjoy!

A new school. God, secondary school was finally, _finally_ behind him, and he’d made absolutely sure to go to a university where nobody who knew his name had ended up getting into, and now he had a clean slate – nobody here would mutter ‘freak’ after him as he walked down the halls, nobody would try to beat him up during lunch or after school. And he could finally take the classes he wanted to take instead of being forced to take what everyone else did.

Sherlock Holmes looked around the dorm room he’d get to have all to himself and he sat down slowly on the small bed. He’d readjusted the furniture so that the desk was near the window and his bed was beside it, sandwiched between the wall and the desk, with a low couch pressed flush against the other wall. Sherlock was willing to admit to himself that he’d arranged the room in a way that felt and looked protective, but he didn’t care because he finally felt safe. It was nice. Sherlock was used to the cold, imposing size of his room back home – the entire house was like that, actually – and so it felt good to have a small room, one that was all his.

Sherlock glanced at his window as he heard laughing and girlish squeals that he’d learned meant somebody was excited, and he stood up, stepping around his desk to stand at his window and look down at the courtyard below that all of the dorm buildings faced. A couple of girls were laughing and hugging two boys that Sherlock remembered seeing in the lobby of his building – one, who was short and blond, was poor and obviously at the school on some sort of sport scholarship. Sherlock had been unable to deduce the man’s course of study, but then again he’d only gotten a quick glimpse. The man’s friend was just as short as him though he was thin and reedy where the other was strong and healthy, and he was obviously bookish, and as Sherlock watched the two men with the girls, he figured that the two were rather close friends, and that they were going out on a double date with the girls whose laughter had caught his attention.

How had anybody been able to find dates so quickly? Sherlock had been one of the first students to arrive on campus and he’d only gotten there the day before. Honestly, Sherlock found it rather…impressive. He found the practice of dating to be completely useless and dull, of course, but he still found it impressive that two of his classmates had already managed to find girls to go out with. Sherlock watched them sort of pair off and walk away, still laughing and talking amongst the four of them.

When they had gone, Sherlock turned back around to face his room and he stepped back around his desk to stand in the middle of the little room, enjoying the quiet. There were the faint sounds of the guys around him moving into their rooms and laughing with each other, but the sounds were muffled through the thick concrete walls and the thick wood of his door. It was oddly calming, being surrounded and yet so isolated, and he smiled just barely to himself, heading over to where he’d stashed his violin. He picked it up and retreated to his bed, sitting near the headboard and folding his long legs onto the mattress as he brought the violin up to his chin and started tuning it quietly, the soft notes blocking out even the faint sounds of people moving in around him. Once the violin was tuned, he pulled his bow out and started playing something happy and cheerful, just looking ahead and staring at the door to his room as he played.

Eventually, Sherlock got tired of playing and so he let the last note waver off into silence before checking the time on his mobile. Two hours, not bad. Sherlock put his violin on the chair at his desk and sighed as he realised that he’d have to socialise at least a little as classes were started tomorrow. Sherlock lay back on his bed and stretched out his legs with a quiet groan, his fingers lacing together behind his head and tangling in his hair a little as he stared up at the ceiling.

Sherlock closed his eyes after a moment or two and listened to the sounds of the people around him that had seemed to change since he’d started playing his violin. Everyone seemed a little louder and someone had started playing music from somewhere down the hall, and every now and again Sherlock heard a loud thump from one of the other rooms, probably one of the ones directly around his. Oh no, where his neighbours partiers? That could get annoying. But even if it did become a problem, he could just start going to the library in the evening, or find some little shop that stayed open all night whose owners wouldn’t mind if he stayed there for at least part of the night. He didn’t sleep much anyway, so staying awake that long wouldn’t be an issue. Either way, he’d figure out what to do if the need ever arose. For now he was content to just lay in bed and listen, his eyes closed against the overhead light as he actually felt himself starting to doze off.

As he started to fall asleep, Sherlock went through his schedule again and felt a small smile curling across his lips as he remembered that he only had to have classes two days out of the week. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had four lectures and one lab: Biology, Anatomy and Physiology (classroom and lab), Personality Profiling, and finally Psychology of Criminals. He’d made sure to pick a university that not only would be devoid of his previous classmates, but that also offered classes on criminology, mostly because he found it absolutely fascinating, as well as a good place to exercise the peculiar talent he had for picking up on minutiae and figuring out what they meant. He knew it wasn’t normal, but he didn’t care. Normal was boring.

Sherlock twitched a bit and opened his eyes as he heard girls chattering and laughing outside again and he figured that the two boys from his building were back from their date. He wondered for a moment why he kept noticing these people in particular, but he figured it was just because they made distinct sounds that he happened to pick up on.

Sherlock stood up and padded over to the light switch by his door, flicking it off and slipping out of his clothes before crawling back into bed, figuring that he might actually try to sleep since tomorrow he’d have to attempt to act at least somewhat normal to start off on a good foot at the school. No need to give everybody a reason to hate him just yet.

 

\---------

 

Sherlock’s plan to start off simply didn’t quite work. It had quickly become obvious to him within the first two day of classes (and in the past three weeks) that despite the fact that he’d expected these people to be different from his previous classmates, they seemed to be almost exactly the same. There were small quirks that were different, obviously, but the general level of intelligence didn’t seem to show too much variation, and everybody was either average or moronic. He’d yet to find somebody that was his peer in intelligence, and so he’d almost instantly gained a reputation for being cold and standoffish, his personality as frigid as his tense demeanour, and people didn’t really reach out to talk to him any more. The first few days, people had seemed interested in him and willing to talk to him, but he’d quickly given anybody idiotic the same treatment he’d given his classmates in secondary school, and so he could understand why they all stayed away from him. That was the point, of course.

The boy he remembered seeing on the day after his arrival – who he’d now learned was named Watson - was in two of his classes, Biology and Anatomy, and though Sherlock didn’t know the rest of his schedule, he figured it was safe to assume that he was studying biological sciences or something similar that may or may not be preparing him for the medical field. It would make sense for the man to want to go into such a well-paid profession if the state of his home life was to be correctly deduced, and so Sherlock found it to be the most likely, though naturally he never actively asked the man about it.

And so now, two weeks into term, Sherlock found himself alone again, though at least this time attitudes weren’t hostile toward him quite yet, just...non-existent really. Nobody seemed to have a definite, strong opinion of him at the moment, everyone just seemed to sort of look past him like he wasn’t even there. And this was fine, he supposed, as it meant he didn’t have to attempt to make conversation, but at the same time he wasn’t struggling to protect himself and look out for people who might want to harm him like he’d had to in secondary school. He spent quite a few nights at the on-campus library or even sitting outside, studying underneath a street lamp with a cup of coffee cradled in one hand, as it turned out that yes, his neighbours were partiers, or at least had a lot of friends and liked to listen to loud music late at night.

But honestly, Sherlock didn’t mind. Because no matter how much everyone ignored him, that just meant that nobody was hostile toward him, nobody had yet to even hint at hitting him, nobody had threatened him, and Sherlock had long ago accepted that he’d probably never have a friend so it didn’t really matter that nobody here liked him in particular.

Besides, Sherlock got almost the entire week to himself. Sure he had studying and homework to do, enough to keep him busy for at least part of his free time, but he didn’t mind because it kept him from getting bored. And then when he was done with that, Sherlock left the campus and started learning the city. He liked to learn the layout and where certain buildings were in relation to others, what the street names were and where they connected to the ones he’d already learned. Perhaps he shouldn’t have wanted to memorise anything else since he already did so much work for his classes, but this he didn’t mind, this was fun to him. And whenever he got too tired of walking he could just find a bench and start watching the people.

Nobody ever noticed him out here either, not really, and so he was pretty much free to stare at whomever he wanted to, though a couple times he’d been caught and he’d earned a couple nonverbal offers that he’d had no intention of following up on in the least. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to live out here in the city instead of in the dorm, and sometimes he was curious enough to even consider attempting to rent a flat and move off campus, but at least on campus he didn’t have to worry about tiresome things like electric bills and utilities or rent, it was all paid for in his tuition at the university. So he always returned at some point, and most of the time he made sure to go back late enough that he didn’t have to hear or walk right into whatever party was going on in his neighbours’ rooms and that was sure to spill out into the hallway as well.

 

Tonight, though, Sherlock had been forced to return a little early when he’d remembered that he needed to finish writing a lab report for his class the next day, and when he reached the hallway where his room was, he encountered a party that seemed to be relatively small but that was no less raucous, and he had to push past a couple of tipsy girls to get to his room. Women weren’t technically allowed in the men’s dorms, but nobody paid much attention to that rule unless somebody got into a bit of trouble, and so women were pretty much a permanent fixture of whatever party his neighbours were hosting. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he reached the spot where his door was and was blocked by a couple who were firmly focused on snogging each other, and he glanced around, unsure what to do. When he glanced around, he found the man he’d first noticed, Watson, looking at him with an amused smirk on his face, and Sherlock just looked at him a little curiously, gesturing vaguely to the couple who were making absolutely horrid slurping noises at this point. Sherlock watched the other man chuckle and then push off the wall where he’d been leaning and very obviously bump into the man, who had his girlfriend pressed against Sherlock’s door. Sherlock stepped back as the man rounded angrily on Watson almost instantly, and his eyebrow raised again as he listened to the man suddenly start shouting.

“What’cheh think yeh’re doin’ eh?!”

“Oh you know, just passing through.” Sherlock was honestly a little amused by the bored nonchalance of Watson’s voice and he found himself watching the irate man curiously as the tone only seemed to anger him even more.

“Yeh cain’t jes’ be walkin’ where yeh please! Shove off, yeah? I’m busy, I don’ have the patience to be a’talkin’ to the likes o’ you.” Honestly, the man needed to learn to at least be impressively angry if he was going to insist on being so sensitive about somebody simply bumping into him. Sherlock met Watson’s glance and caught a mischievous glint in the other man’s eyes before he turned around to face the man who was still glaring at him.

“Right well, excuse me then. I didn’t realise you were here to dictate where I could and could not walk as opposed to slurping the face off your lovely girl here,” Watson replied smoothly. Sherlock actually had to hold back a snicker this time and he only just managed it. He quickly decided, when the other man opened his mouth to retort, that this argument would probably go on far too long for his liking, and so he stepped up, tapping the man on the shoulder, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets, instantly assuming the guise of a subservient and timid man, neither of which he was.

“ ‘Scuse me? Tha’s my room, and I’m jes’ wantin’ to get in there, if you don’ mind,” Sherlock said shyly, adopting an accent completely unlike his own. He watched confusion cross the man’s face and then he seemed oddly mollified, and he stepped aside without another word, dragging his drunk and giggling girlfriend with him only to press her against the wall and resume snogging her with even more passion this time, if that were even possible. Sherlock quickly straightened his stance again and mentally shook off that faint and almost indiscernible air of nervousness until he looked like himself again. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned to press the door open with one shoulder, his other hand coming up to his forehead in a mock solute to Watson, who was just standing there looking at him with a surprised expression on his face.

“Ta. See you in class,” Sherlock said with a hint of a smirk before stepping into his room and shutting the door carefully between himself and the partygoers on the other side, shrugging out of his jacket and going toward his desk to open his laptop, waiting for it to warm up as he slipped his shoes off and kicked them over somewhere in the general direction of the closet. Sherlock folded himself into his chair and rummaged around in one of the drawers of his desk to find his earphones, plugging them into his laptop and starting up an album of classical music as he opened the document for his lab report and started typing, instantly blocking out everybody outside of his room and immersing himself in a report on the last dissection they’d performed in the lab portion of his anatomy class.

 

\---------

 

The next morning, Sherlock was sitting in the back corner of the biology lecture hall, his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling until class started. He heard somebody sit down beside him, but that wasn’t unheard of as the lecture hall was completely filled on days when every single student was in attendance. In fact he completely disregarded whoever was beside him until he felt a cautious tap on his arm. He tilted his head down to find Watson sitting there looking at him a little shyly.

                “Hello,” Watson said cheerfully, a small smile on his face. Sherlock inclined his head once and then tilted it back to look at the ceiling again, not feeling up to talking that morning (like most mornings). He felt confusion slip across his face, though, when he heard Watson start talking again.

                “I was just curious about something. How did you do that last night? Change how you looked, I mean.” Sherlock looked back down at Watson, his brow furrowed a little bit, until he suddenly remembered what the man had to be talking about.

                “What, when I got the idiots to move away from my door?” Sherlock waited for Watson’s nod of confirmation before shrugging a little. “I don’t really know. Simple gestures mean a lot, as does an accent, and when I heard his I simply copied it a little, regional similarity, you know, and attempted to make myself look as unimposing and non-confrontational as possible. Little trick I picked up in secondary school,” Sherlock said with another shrug, looking toward the front of the classroom just as the professor walked in and started the lesson, effectively cutting off anything else Watson might have said.

Sherlock was called on a few times during class to answer particularly difficult questions, and each time he answered them smoothly, ignoring the slightly incredulous looks his answers garnered. People were starting to realise that his intelligence might just be quite a bit higher than what they were used to encountering, and as such Sherlock kept getting more and more curious looks as time went on.  He didn’t pay any attention, though, and instead each time he finished answering a question he turned his head to look out the window directly to his left, ignoring everybody else in favour of listening to the professor and focusing on nothing else really.

                When class had finished, Sherlock instantly picked up his backpack and slung it across his chest, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading down to the front of the room once the weight of his bag had settled against his leg. He was out of the door before anybody else, already heading down the hallway to get to the anatomy lab that was thankfully in the same building as the biology hall. He wasn’t the first in the classroom but he didn’t mind, instead just going to the same back table he always sat at as he waited for this class to start. He watched the other students who filed in slowly, some of them honestly seeming to dread entering the classroom which didn’t make too much sense to him. If they didn’t like the class, then why were they taking it? It wasn’t one of the required courses, and unless they had a focus that specifically required the class, there was no reason to take it. Yet another unfathomable thing about his classmates that he could add to his growing list of things he didn’t understand about people his age.

                Sherlock sat alone this time as there weren’t enough students in this class to completely fill up the tables, and he figured he would remain alone at his table. Until the professor walked in and told them that he’d be pairing them off for the only project they’d be doing in the class. Sherlock instantly felt his heart sink at the word project, but then the woman was detailing what she meant, and he relaxed again, figuring that he’d be able to do all the work himself without a problem.

                “Alright. So, this is just a really simple project that for some reason I’ve been instructed to assign to you lot. I can assure you, it’s ridiculously simple and you’ll all probably be able to do it the night before it’s due, not like I care since you'll probably make a decent grade no matter what you do. Anyway, I’ve paired you off – “ a pause for the resulting groans or small satisfied noises, depending on who had friends in the class and on who hated or loved group work – “and you’ll be dissecting a total of four simple structures and writing detailed reports on, of course, both the anatomy and the physiology of each. I’ve assigned this so there will be two dissections for the both of you specifically so nobody can slack off and pass the work onto their partner as I know half of you are fond of doing. Luckily I’ve paired all the slackers with each other so you don’t annoy the others who actually care.” Sherlock had to snicker at that – this professor really was his favourite so far as she seemed to have the exact amount of seriousness to seem credible, whilst seeming to enjoy her job as well as understand how students behaved. Not to mention most of her humour was lost on the idiots of the class, which Sherlock always found entertaining.

“Now, here are your groups – and _no_ you can’t complain about your partner and ask for a new one, these are final: Dimmick and Wilson, Lestrade and Hooper, Brook and Moran, Holmes and Watson, Powers and Greene, Black and White – “ another pause for a few titters from some of the more immature students, though Sherlock got the feeling that that had been intentional. He stopped paying attention after that, instead just readjusting in his seat as he waited for Watson to join him. Naturally, he would have preferred to work alone, or at least accept the entire workload on himself, but he supposed that Watson had never shown outstanding signs of stupidity. Hopefully they could be finished with this quickly and could part from each other again. Those hopes were somewhat dashed by the professor’s next announcement that was made over the general babble as everybody paired off with the usual chatter.

“Now, for some bloody reason I’m supposed to space this little project out over the course of three weeks, so get comfy with your partners so you won’t be worried that they’re about to stab you with their scalpel, and then get ready for a lecture. Wherever you choose to sit with your new partners are your sort of permanent seats until the end of this project that sounds more like a study in ‘how to waste everybody’s time in the most scientific manner possible.’ And…go.” Sherlock sat absolutely still and stared down at his notebook where he’d been scribbling aimlessly the last time he’d had class and he started doing so again as Watson took his seat beside him. Sherlock looked up as a hand was outstretched to him.

“Figure we ought to get on a first name basis, don’t you think?” Watson asked with something of a cheerful smile and Sherlock cautiously slipped his hand into Watson’s, noting absently that it was warm and just dry enough to be comfortable, a firm but not painful handshake, and one that lasted the perfect length to not be annoying. Sherlock was a little surprised to find himself just a little more at ease and he nodded in response to Watson’s half-question.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he offered pleasantly enough, he thought. If he was going to be working with Watson then there was no need to be icy toward him from the start.

“John Watson,” John supplied with another charming smile before he turned to face forward again, completely leaving out any sort of pleasantries and social niceties that Sherlock had been dreading. Odd. Most people couldn’t seem to meet somebody properly without talking about nonsense. Sherlock studied John’s face curiously for a brief moment before refocusing on his notebook until the professor recalled their attention to the front of the lab where she was now seated on a stool just like theirs. Sherlock focused as she began detailing the anatomy of what they’d be dissecting – heart, lungs, brain, and eye – as well as what they should expect to find as they dissected each individual organ.

 

\---------

 

The remainder of Sherlock’s day passed exactly as his other class days did, with his two classes that probably interested him the most though the professors were nowhere near as good as his anatomy and physiology professor. He was just on his way back to his dorm to do something like play his violin or mess around with the settings of his laptop when he was intercepted just inside the doors to the building by John Watson. Sherlock looked at him curiously, wondering what he wanted, but the man just sort of stood there for a moment. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and decided to say something first.

“Can I help you?” he asked carefully, wondering just what John would want with him. He’d noticed in the last few weeks at the school that John was facing no shortage of friends, and nobody ever sought Sherlock out for anything like friendship – if anything, people just wanted his help with school work, though that hadn’t happened since he’d started going to university. Sherlock watched on silently as John cleared his throat and shifted a little.

“Yeah, actually, if you don’t mind.” Sherlock sighed imperceptibly and readjusted his bag on his hip to push his hands into his pockets, waiting for John to just spit out whatever it was he wanted.

“See, I’m having some trouble in biology and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me? You seem to have a really good grasp of what’s going on.” And there it was. Sherlock had figured that the first person to come to him for help would be one of his more moronic classmates, John had seemed to be one of more averaging intelligence bordering on genuinely smart, and Sherlock hadn’t expected to hear him asking for help. And yet here they were.

“Of course. We can study in my room if you like, or yours, or the library. I don’t really care,” Sherlock said casually, his hands balling into fists in his pockets.

“Your room is fine if you honestly don’t mind. Mine is still a little messy, haven’t had the chance to move in properly. Plus Stamford is a bit of a slob,” John said with a quick smile, like he was inviting Sherlock to share in the small joke. He didn’t, instead just nodding and turning toward the stairs. “You can come up now if you’d like, I haven’t got anything else to do. Or you could just show up whenever, I don’t go out much except on the nights when my neighbours have one of their parties,” Sherlock said over his shoulder. He heard John’s footsteps behind him after a few moments and so he headed upstairs, making quick work of the three flights, a little impressed that John managed to stay right on his heels despite their height differences.

“What sport scholarship are you here on?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly as they headed down the hall toward his door. Sherlock held back a wince as John’s surprise was almost palpable, and so Sherlock just kept looking ahead, refusing to turn around and see the expression on John’s face that he was worried might look something like fear or irritation. And actually, John was so quiet for a few moments that Sherlock looked over his shoulder as he unlocked his door, just ascertain whether or not John actually had slipped away.

“Uh..Oh uh, football,” John stammered, and Sherlock just nodded as he’d figured it would be either football or rugby judging by John’s build and obvious strength. “How did you know?” Sherlock rolled his eyes to himself as he pushed his door open and stepped into his room, dropping his bag onto the chair at his desk before plopping down on his bed, his back pressed against the wall as his legs dangled off of the edge. He looked up at John as he slipped his shoes off and watched the boy enter the room a little cautiously.

“How did I know what? That you’re an athlete? Anybody could tell,” Sherlock drawled as he motioned John toward the couch. He watched John drop his bag to the floor before settling hesitantly on the edge of one of the cushions.

“No,” John said slowly, looking down as he tangled his fingers between his knees. “How did you know that I’m here on a scholarship? I haven’t told anybody,” he said hesitantly, sounding as if he was unsure if he should reveal that Sherlock was right – which was pointless as obviously Sherlock already knew that John was on a scholarship.

Sherlock worried that John would hit him or at the least get angry and storm out if he revealed how he’d figured it out – most people did – but his natural tendency to show off at every opportunity rose up at that moment and so he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, focusing on his hands that were pressed together as opposed to watching John’s reaction to what he was about to say.

“The first day you arrived here on campus, I saw you in the lobby of the building, and I noticed that the majority of your belongings were in an army-issue rucksack that had clearly seen quite a bit of wear, leading me to believe that you are either sentimental toward your father and as such decided to use his army rucksack, or that your family has limited funds and couldn’t afford to send their only son off to Uni with new luggage. Add to this the fact that the trunk that you _did_ bring was also well-worn and clearly used often, I was inclined to accept the second hypothesis of limited funds. Your clothes, also, have seen their fair share of use and at least one change of ownership, especially your shoes. Next, this is an expensive university, and somebody whose family can’t afford new luggage or new clothes can’t afford the tuition of this school. Upon noticing your distinctive physique and the fact that your muscles are decidedly well-toned and you move with a smoothness that speaks of regular strenuous exercise, I had to assume that you were here on a scholarship, and that it would have something to do with your athletic abilities. Clearly you’re not a dancer or an archer or any other of the odd sportsmanship scholarships this university offers, I was then left with a choice between football or rugby. Since I watch neither of these sports and therefore would be unaware of who was on which team, I felt compelled to ask you. So, what sports scholarship were you awarded? And you answered football.”

Sherlock finally looked up at John to find the man staring at him with a completely blank expression on his face, and Sherlock kept waiting for him to either start insulting him or get up and leave or do something else of the sort, and so he was increasingly confused when John just stared at him.

“That’s…amazing.” Sherlock actually jumped, the praise was so unexpected. Before he could recover, John was continuing. “Absolutely incredible.” Sherlock just watched on dumbfounded as he watched John shake his head a bit and ruffle a hand through his somewhat shaggy blond hair.

“That’s not what people normally say,” Sherlock finally said, his confusion as clear in his voice as he was sure was on his face.

“Well they should,” John practically scoffed, surprising Sherlock all over again. Sherlock cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted around on his bed, running his fingers through his curls and ducking his head, unsure about how to handle the unexpected compliments.

“Um..right. So..Biology?” Sherlock said and hopped up to grab his bag off the chair and start rummaging through it for his textbook, hearing John doing the same from the couch.


	2. Just Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend at last?

Sherlock closed the door after John and he turned around to survey his now-empty room. It was odd, but Sherlock had felt like John wasn’t _using_ him like others did or anything like that, but that he actually just genuinely wanted help and he’d thought that Sherlock might have been the best person to provide that. And it wasn’t necessarily that John was too stupid to understand the lessons he needed help with, it was just that he needed a little bit of guided revising, which Sherlock could easily supply. It had been…nice, to just sit with somebody and talk either about biology or about a few unrelated things, such as the fact that yes, John’s family was poor like Sherlock had said, but they were all really close with each other – though John did have some problems with his sister, Harry. Sherlock hadn’t really given away a lot of what his home life had been like before moving out, and that was mostly because he still didn’t trust John completely, though he couldn’t deny that he trusted John to not be cruel more than anyone else on campus. Maybe that was the closest he’d ever get to having a friend – knowing that he could name at least one person who he was fairly sure wouldn’t hurt him intentionally.

Sherlock clicked the light off and walked over to his dresser, slipping out of his trousers and uncomfortable shirt to put on his pyjama trousers before climbing into bed. Thankfully it was late enough for him to have a reason to be in bed, which meant he could try to relax. Sherlock waited for his eyes to finish adjusting to the darkness before looking around his room again. After having John sitting on his couch for hours and hours, his room felt so empty. It was weird, but he’d already grown accustomed to the sound of John talking, and it felt weird to not hear him. At least now Sherlock was fairly sure that he wouldn’t mind working with John in Anatomy on their dissection project.

Sherlock turned onto his back to look up at the ceiling as he heard a sudden thump of bass from the room beside him and he sighed when he heard loud laughter follow by the start-up of some obnoxiously loud and crass music and Sherlock turned on his side toward the rest of the room again, reaching over to rummage around in a drawer of his desk until he found his iPod and headphones. The earphones couldn’t block out every noise from next door, but it helped immensely and when he started playing some of his favourite classical music, Sherlock was able to relax and turn on his back again, closing his eyes as the familiar notes sounded in his ears.

\-----

 

When Sherlock woke up the next morning, he was thoroughly startled as he hadn’t even remembered going to sleep. One minute he’d been listening to classical music and the next he was still listening but it was light outside and his heart was pounding for some reason he couldn’t remember. Sherlock sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, tugging his earphones out and glancing at the window as his heart slowed down again. Sherlock sighed and paused his music before putting the iPod back in his desk. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for another few minutes, just rubbing at his face and pushing his fingers through his hair, trying to wipe away the sleep from his features and attempt to wake up – it always took him forever to wake up properly, which is why he hated sleeping most of the time.

When he was finally awake enough to get out of bed, Sherlock stood up and rummaged around in the top drawer of his dresser for his shampoo and soap, grabbing his towel as well before heading out into the hall. That was probably the only thing he honestly didn’t like about university, and that was the fact that _his_ dorm building, at least, didn’t have individual bathrooms in each room – every floor had two communal bathrooms and showers, one on each far end of the floor. Since it was still somewhat early (but too late for anybody to be getting ready for class) he had the bathroom to himself, which was a bit of a rarity.

Of course it couldn’t last, though, and shortly after Sherlock had started his shower he heard somebody else come in and start stripping down quickly, which was understandable as the tiled room was cold that morning since apparently the warm steam from the others’ showers had long ago dissipated. Sherlock decided to take a quicker shower, then, to avoid the awkward moment when he got out of his shower at the same time as somebody else. Sherlock didn’t typically find silences awkward, but when somebody else was taking a shower in the same room and at the same time as him, things got a little uncomfortable, but only when there was only one other person in the room with him, oddly enough.

Sherlock rushed through his shower and was out quickly, rolling his eyes as he turned the water off and heard whoever else was in the shower start wanking. He figured he’d probably have quite a bit of time to dry off properly and gather his things together before heading back to his room.

Sherlock’s room wasn’t too far from the bathroom so he decided to just wrap his towel around his hips and grab his things quickly (he had no interest in continuing to listen to somebody else get off), leaving the bathroom just as he was fairly sure the other man in the showers was just finishing up. Somebody needed to work on his stamina. Sherlock stopped short when he saw John knocking on his door, and after a moment he stepped forward, wishing he hadn’t left the bathroom in just his towel that was slung fairly low on his hips by this point.

“You’re not going to get an answer if you just keep standing there waiting,” Sherlock said as he approached, feeling a small flash of amusement as he watched John turn around suddenly, obviously startled. Sherlock was mildly confused as he noticed John’s eyes darting down quickly, a blush darkening his cheeks. Sherlock didn’t comment, however, instead just choosing to brush past John to open his door and step inside.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you might want to hang out for a bit today,” John sort of stuttered from behind him. “I didn’t know if you had classes, though.” Sherlock shut the door behind John once they were both in and the corner of his mouth twitched up as John just looked at him expectantly. He raised his hand to the level of his chest and twirled one finger, watching John look at him in confusion for a moment or two before suddenly blushing again and smiling self-consciously.

“Right, sorry. Just so used to no bloody modesty thanks to football locker room,” John said with a quiet chuckle as he faced the door again. Sherlock just chuckled once and shook his head slightly before dropping his towel and heading over to his dresser.

“So..do you want to hang out today?” John asked, and Sherlock realised he hadn’t given the other man an answer when he’d asked before.

“Depends on what you have in mind,” Sherlock replied as he slipped into a pair of pants and then opened one of the bottom drawers to tug out a pair of tight, dark wash jeans. He slipped into them and then started looking around for a clean t-shirt, though he would’ve preferred to wear a jumper. It was a bit too warm for that, though, unfortunately.

“I was thinking coffee or something. Didn’t really have a plan since I didn’t even know if you’d be available,” John said, still facing the door. Once Sherlock had slipped his shirt over his head he tapped John’s shoulder before picking up his towel and heading over to flop down on the couch, towelling his hair dry and making it messy in the process.

“John, if you need more help with biology you can just say so,” Sherlock said with a small smile as John sat down across from him in the chair at his desk as Sherlock was fairly sure that would be the only reason John would want to talk to him outside of class.

“Oh, no. No it’s not that. I just sort of wanted to…I don’t know, spend time with you I suppose, though that sounds weird doesn’t it?” Sherlock watched John shift uncomfortably but didn’t comment, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to respond. John wanted to spend time with him? That didn’t make any sense, and Sherlock was trying to figure out why John was lying about this. But he didn’t seem to be, and so after a moment Sherlock leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at John, his towel still in one hand.

“Yeah, it does sound weird, but not for the reason you think,” Sherlock chuckled. “Sounds like it could be fun,” Sherlock added with what he hoped was a somewhat comforting smile. “I know this really great little place a few blocks from the campus, they serve coffee all night as well as all day, and it’s pretty small and quiet,” Sherlock said with a slight shrug. “But we can go wherever, I suppose,” Sherlock added, not wanting to push John away by seeming like he was picky or demanding or something.

“No, that sounds great. I’m ready to go whenever you are,” John said with a smile, his cheeks darkening just a little bit again, though it was difficult to see under the tan of his skin. Sherlock could only assume that it was due to the same thought that had caused him to blush earlier when Sherlock ha d been shirtless, though Sherlock decided not to think too much about it since he didn’t really understand other people his age anyway.

“Alright then I’ll just get a few things and then I’ll be good,” Sherlock said as he stood up from the couch, heading over to his desk to grab his key and his wallet, putting them carelessly in his back pocket. Sherlock briefly considered picking up his mobile and taking it with him but he really had absolutely no reason to take it since nobody ever contacted him. Sherlock ran his towel through his hair again before grabbing his shoes and socks, plopping down on the couch again to put them on before standing up and shoving his hands deep in his pockets, smiling at John. “Okay, let’s go,” Sherlock said, feeling like he was completely out of his element with actually going out to hang out with somebody for no reason except to just..hang out. It was such an odd concept.

Sherlock headed toward his door as John stood up and he locked the door behind the two of them before heading down the hallway toward the stairs, still focusing on the odd feeling he got by being accompanied by somebody as he walked. The thought made Sherlock oddly upset as he realised that it must just reinforce how freakish he was that he couldn’t even feel normal around another person who wasn’t either ignoring him or being harsh or mean. Sherlock’s brow furrowed as he walked and he felt John looking at him but he didn’t bother to explain what was wrong, figuring that nobody really ever cared when somebody was upset about something, and especially not him.

By the time they got downstairs, Sherlock had reassumed a more neutral expression and he even attempted to have something of a conversation with John, though Sherlock could almost instantly tell that he was terrible at talking to somebody else.

“So what were you doing at the party the other night?” Sherlock asked curiously, not realising how judgemental he sounded until he’d already asked the question and he blushed, instantly trying to figure out how to backpedal. “Oh, shit. Sorry, that came out sounding worse than I’d thought,” Sherlock muttered with a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair. Sherlock glanced over at John and was relieved to find that he didn’t look offended as Sherlock had thought he was.

“No, it’s okay,” John replied, and Sherlock realised he was smiling a little bit, which was completely baffling. “I was there with my friend Mike. For some reason he seemed to think that that particular party would be more interesting than the rest of the parties going on in some of the other dorms, though I can’t imagine why since they’re all the same,” John continued, rolling his eyes a bit. “Something about the amount of girls, but they were all just sort of..disgusting, honestly,” John said with a small chuckle. “But that’s Mike’s type, unfortunately, so I got dragged along.”

Sherlock nodded slightly as John spoke and he was surprised to find that he liked that explanation more than the idea that John was one of the idiots who went to those types of parties. Sherlock knew he probably shouldn’t have cared, but he did and that just gave him more to think about, and again he just felt so completely out of his depth with this.

 

Sherlock attempted to keep up at least a semblance of conversation on the way to the coffee shop but he pretty much failed, though thankfully John didn’t seem to either notice or mind. By the time they got to the cosy little coffee shop, Sherlock felt completely exhausted from the effort of keeping up a normal conversation (which he couldn’t even do) and he got his coffee and headed to a corner table in the back of the shop, away from other people. Sherlock saw John looking at him curiously again but Sherlock was used to being studied like he was a foreign creature – it just sort of bothered him that John was looking at him like that, how everybody else did.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock looked up at John at the unexpected question and he was honestly a little confused by it. People usually asked him things like ‘What’s your problem?’ which Sherlock had always taken as something meant to be confrontational as opposed to truly asking if there was anything wrong, and so John’s question caught him completely off guard, and Sherlock was mortified to find himself answering John’s question honestly.

“I..I think so. I’m just not used to actually attempting to talk like a normal person,” Sherlock said with a small shrug, taking a small sip of his coffee and pulling one foot up onto his chair to wrap his arm around his knee, resting his chin on it as he put his drink back down on the table. “It’s just…People don’t talk to me,” Sherlock added quietly, his long fingers tracing the lid on his cup.

“Oh. Well Sherlock, you didn’t have to come and hang out with me if you knew it was going to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t obligated to come or anything,” John said uncertainly and Sherlock sighed quietly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“It’s not that,” Sherlock said, looking up at John and wishing he knew how to convey exactly what was going on in his mind. “It’s just…Well alright, if nobody liked you, and nobody talked to you, would you be able to develop the ability to talk to people normally?” Sherlock asked, his voice surprisingly fervent. Sherlock took a deep breath and glanced out the nearest window, sitting up straight and tipping his head back a little bit. “Sorry,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again. “I am incapable of easily holding a conversation with anybody because nobody has ever taken the time to teach me how, and unfortunately a conversation is something that can only be practiced with somebody else to create proficiency in that particular skill, and I am not somebody that people typically want to talk to,” Sherlock continued, a little more calmly than before. “In my memory, you are the first person to at least attempt to maintain a regular conversation. Other people have talked to me, of course, but I don’t think that those other people should count because the only reason people have ever spoken to me before was to ask for my help in their classes,” Sherlock continued, completely avoiding looking at John by this point.

Sherlock waited as the silence stretched on from John and he found John just studying him curiously and Sherlock huffed out a quick breath. “Please stop looking at me like I’m a freak,” Sherlock muttered, turning his head to look out of the window again, fighting back the rising feeling of disgust he felt toward himself.

“Oh God no, that’s not.. No, I don’t think you’re a freak, Sherlock,” John replied instantly, and Sherlock wanted so badly to believe that he was telling the truth. “I’m just completely and utterly shocked that nobody else has ever tried to talk to you before. You’re completely incredible from what I can tell. Alright, fine, you’re a little awkward, but everybody is in some way so it doesn’t really bother me.” Sherlock turned his head a little to look at John out of the corner of his eye and he found himself wanting to believe John so badly that he allowed himself to believe that John’s expression was completely open and sincere. Sherlock briefly debated about telling John that he couldn’t do this, that he was incapable of having a friend, but Sherlock was willing to admit that deep down he wanted a friend so badly that it hurt and that he’d gotten to the point where he was willing to be friends with John, even if John was just planning to ditch him later.

“Okay,” Sherlock said with a hesitant smile, pleased to find that John immediately returned the gesture.

 

\-----

 

Sherlock stayed with John at the table for a long time, mostly just listening while John spoke, though occasionally Sherlock would chime in with a deduction about one of the people who came into the little coffee shop. For the first time in the longest time Sherlock could remember, he didn’t notice time passing and when he looked out of the window it was late afternoon and Sherlock blinked in surprise. John followed his line of sight and seemed to be just as surprised at Sherlock was and when they looked back at each other, Sherlock found himself wanting to laugh, which wasn’t unheard of. What was unheard of was that he actually _did it_ , he laughed aloud and John joined in mere seconds later. Sherlock laughed until his ribs ached and then he gradually stopped, though he was still grinning.

                “Well I suppose I know what I’m doing with my afternoon,” Sherlock said with a deep chuckle, realising that it felt almost cleansing to get a chance to laugh in a way that wasn’t derisive or in response to somebody in his classes being an idiot.

                “You can go if you need to,” John quickly supplied, suddenly seeming somewhat anxious. “I’d hate to monopolise your time if you need to do something else,” John added, seeming as genuine as he had all day.

                “Oh no, no it’s fine. I’m just not accustomed to losing count of how much time has passed. Days tend to drag on for me,” Sherlock said with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and stretching, his arms stretching above his head with a small pop of his shoulders.

                “Alright, if you’re sure,” John said with a small smile. “Do you want to go somewhere else, though?” John asked after a moment. “Maybe walk around a little bit? I don’t know about you but I definitely need to stretch,” John continued with a chuckle. Sherlock didn’t have to think about that for long at all before he gave John his answer.

                “Definitely. I’ve spent most of my free time exploring the city and I’ve learned the layouts and the streets so we won’t get lost,” Sherlock said casually as he stood up. “A walk sounds really good,” Sherlock continued with a smile.

Sherlock and John both left considerable tips on their table since they’d been there for so long without buying more than one coffee each before they headed toward the door lazily, stepping outside and picking a random direction to start walking in and Sherlock instantly started thinking about the mental map he’d created as he’d explored the city on his own, and just like earlier that morning he noticed that it was different to have somebody walking along beside him. But this time, it actually felt pleasant as opposed to being a pressure to talk or seem normal.

 

Sherlock and John wandered around the city for a long time, and this time it was Sherlock’s turn to talk, telling John little details about people’s lives as they went past or telling John what he already knew about different parts of the city. John interrupted him rarely and then it was mostly just to ask a question for Sherlock to answer. Eventually they ended up back at the university campus and Sherlock figured he should feel tired, exhausted even since he and John had just done so much walking around, but he felt more energetic than he had since he’d gotten to the school and he felt like he needed something else to do – preferably not schoolwork as that would involve sitting still and focusing for a certain amount of time.

It wasn’t until the two men had gotten to Sherlock’s room that John suggested something that Sherlock had considered a couple times before but had never bothered to act on before, and he was honestly considering saying yes to John’s question, though he did have a few serious things to consider before he gave a definitive answer.

“Hey Sherlock, do you want to go to a club tonight or something?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! :)


	3. New Experiences, New Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock go out to have a bit of fun, and both get something they didn't exactly plan on.

Sherlock actually considered John’s question carefully and he was grateful that John seemed perfectly willing to just sit by quietly and wait for Sherlock to come to a decision. Sherlock had to take into account the fact that there would be loud music and drinking and large amounts of people, but nobody would look at him oddly unless he talked, and if he only planned to talk to John then everything might just actually be normal. But then again, Sherlock was fairly sure that he’d be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people. It was a surprisingly difficult decision to make and Sherlock thought carefully about the pros and cons of both agreeing to go as well as telling John no.

 

Sherlock trailed after John down the sidewalk, anticipation and nervousness curling in his stomach as he reconsidered his agreeing to go to the club for about the fiftieth time since they’d left the dorm. What was he doing? He didn’t go to clubs or socialise with anybody, and now he was attempting to combine the two. But then he’d switch again and think that he wanted to know what it was like to go out and get somewhat drunk and have something of a normal evening that didn’t involve being holed up in his room and listening to the party that was going on next door.

When they reached the entrance to the club, Sherlock felt that tightening in his stomach of anticipation again and this time there wasn’t any nervousness. He was intelligent and clever, there was no way he should have an issue staying sort of above everything that was going on in a club, especially since the majority of the patrons would be drunk off their arses.

When they got inside after showing their I.D., Sherlock’s senses were instantly assaulted by a variety of different things. His ears practically vibrated with each thump of the bass that rattled the floor, his nose instantly picked up a dozen different colognes and perfumes within the first few seconds as well as the strong scent of alcohol, his eyes were assailed by dimness broken up only by flashing lights, and the air was so thick with the smell of cologne and sweat that Sherlock would swear he could taste it. Sherlock blinked in surprise when John’s hand wrapped around his but he let John pull him forward further into the club. He was actually sort of grateful that John was leading him as it gave Sherlock time to adjust to the onslaught of new information to his senses.

Sherlock was feeling somewhat comfortable again by the time he and John had managed to fight their way to the bar and he plopped down heavily onto the first open seat he saw that was next to another one and John sat down beside him, grinning widely, and Sherlock was surprised to realise that he was grinning as well, though not quite as broadly. It took the two of them a minute or two to catch the bartender’s attention, both of them already laughing a little and acting silly simply from the little adrenaline rush of getting caught up in the atmosphere of the club.

Sherlock ordered whatever drink John did and studied the rest of the crowd as they waited for their drinks and Sherlock was confused to find himself feeling shaky and eager as he looked at most of the young, sexily-dressed men and even a few of the prettier women who were flaunting their obviously shapely bodies. Sexual attraction wasn’t completely new for Sherlock but it was odd to feel it in this context and he hoped he could hide it from John, not feeling like explaining that to the other man. Sherlock took a deep swig of his drink when it was set down on the bar behind him and he almost instantly felt the buzz of alcohol in his system as he’d only ever had one sip of stale beer before this.

Sherlock finished off his drink quickly and instantly ordered another, already enjoying the sense of freedom that the slight buzz gave him. He’d never get properly drunk because Sherlock didn’t want to lose control of himself, but the slight releasing of inhibitions was a lovely effect, and Sherlock almost instantly found himself getting a little touchy, his hands eager to explore. His hand found the inside of John’s thigh of its own accord even as Sherlock glanced around for somebody who attracted him and he realised that on his other side there was a gorgeous man just a little older than him who was eyeing Sherlock up in his tight black jeans and body-hugging t-shirt that basically left nothing to the imagination.

“Hello, gorgeous,” the man purred and Sherlock instantly leaned back against the bar and opened up his body language, making himself look more inviting as he smirked at the man next to him. “Want to have a bit of fun?” the man asked and Sherlock grinned, turning toward him properly and leaning forward, his hand that had just been on John’s leg coming up to slide up the man’s thigh.

“Well I’d like a name first, but a bit of fun would be fantastic,” Sherlock purred, openly appraising the man’s body that was toned and tan from military service, as was obvious in the way his hair was cut and the way his posture was perfectly straight even though he was clearly relaxed from an abundance of alcohol.

“Victor Trevor,” the man supplied with an absolutely charming smile as he leaned closer to Sherlock and put a hand on his knee, rubbing his fingertips lightly against the jeans.

“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock supplied as his free hand went up to softly rub at the back of Victor’s neck. Sherlock checked on John behind him and found him already snogging some drunken girl who was pretty in an average sort of way. But the point was, Sherlock didn’t have to feel guilty about abandoning John as he turned back to Victor and smiled up at him, shifting his seat a little closer so that his knee was between the man’s legs. “What sort of fun did you have in mind?” Sherlock asked, his speech slurred just a little though he was completely in control of his actions. He knew that this wasn’t like him, to chat up some guy in a club with the obvious intention of getting his first good, sensual kiss, but Sherlock didn’t care. He’d expected his behaviour to be effected by the consumption of alcohol and so this, to him, was perfectly acceptable.

“Oh you know. The usual. Snogging, dancing if you’re up to it...though with me, dancing in clubs  typically just turns out to be a game of who can make the other come first while still fully clothed,” Victor said with a wide grin, his hand slipping further up Sherlock’s leg. The idea of getting sexual pleasure from another man in a public place was oddly appealing to Sherlock and so he just mirrored Victor’s caress on his leg, though Sherlock took it a little further and ran a fingertip softly against the slight bulge in the crotch of Victor’s jeans, making the man groan softly and look at Sherlock with anticipation written all over his face.

“Sounds good. Shall we start with the snogging?” Sherlock asked with a grin, shifting closer to Victor as the man’s arm wrapped around the small of his back. Sherlock instantly melted against Victor’s chest when their mouths pressed together in Sherlock’s first kiss and his mind was immediately analysing everything that he felt in regards to the seemingly-perfect kiss. And then something switched in Sherlock’s mind and he stopped thinking, his body taking over before his mind could even properly process everything about the situation. Suddenly the hand that was rubbing up the outside his thigh to his hip was purely a source of pleasure and not something to be analysed, and the feeling of soft, warm lips manipulating his was something that Sherlock didn’t have to think about, instead just mirroring the movements and accepting the pleasure Victor was offering him.

Sherlock kissed Victor like that for a few moments before his body decided that he needed to feel more and so he put his hand over Victor’s that was on his hip and brought it forward slowly to settle against his crotch and he shifted closer to Victor, his hands starting to explore his chest and stomach slowly. Sherlock made a soft sound of pleasure in the back of his throat when Victor’s thumb softly brushed against the hardening bulge in his jeans but he didn’t think Victor would be able to hear it over the loud music that was still thumping through the floor and vibrating in Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock couldn’t believe it, but he still wanted more contact so he finally just pushed Victor’s hand away from his crotch to climb into Victor’s lap, straddling him and making sure not to break the kiss as he settled on the man’s lap, his arms snaking around Victor’s neck as Victor’s hands went to grope Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock pressed his lips more firmly against Victor’s, pressing close to him and holding on tightly.

Sherlock was amazed that he’d managed to find somebody so quickly in the club, but then again he’d been thinking about talking to someone, which was obviously not a good idea in a place that played such loud music. And besides, this was definitely a preferable alternative to carrying on a conversation. Sherlock couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good because of something physical, and he could tell even then that this was something that he wanted more often from somebody.

Sherlock could feel Victor’s surprise when Sherlock settled on his lap, but he didn’t pull away and so Sherlock took that as affirmation that he was alright with having Sherlock in his lap, their groins pressed together, creating a small amount of friction. Dimly over the music, Sherlock could hear sounds of female giggling mixed in with sounds of snogging and Sherlock figured that John was still having a good time so Sherlock relaxed, leaning into the man he’d found to kiss while John felt up the girl he’d found.

Sherlock eventually broke away from Victor’s mouth only to reach past him and take a sip of Sherlock’s drink that was sitting pretty much abandoned on the bar, and he refused to move from Victor’s lap. The music had changed to something slow for some reason and so it was possible to actually hear speech at a normal volume and so Sherlock figured he’d at least try to have a conversation with the man he’d just been thoroughly snogging for nearly ten minutes.

“So Victor,” Sherlock purred, moving his hands to Victor’s hair while the man’s hands tightened on his arse. “Let’s see what I can find out about you,” Sherlock continued, not worried about getting rejected because of his talent, mostly because he was still thoroughly and pleasantly buzzed. “Hmm..No, shh, don’t tell me anything,” Sherlock shushed Victor with a smile, who looked surprised but then returned Sherlock’s lazy smirk. “Alright, I think I’ve got a few things,” Sherlock said after he’d studied Victor’s face carefully and glanced down to study what he could see of Victor’s body. “Author, twenty..five? Twenty-six? Something close to that anyway. Out of university at least. Experienced in relationships but not a whore, able to hold alcohol remarkably well, my guess is because you’re accustomed to drinking, though maybe not to clubbing judging by the fact that you’ve already had nearly five drinks to keep a level head, though you’re clearly not drunk. Am I right so far?” Sherlock asked with a confident grin, yelping a little in surprise when Victor’s hands tightened on his arse and his mouth suddenly connected with the side of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock tipped his head to the side as his eyes fluttered shut as Victor sucked hard on his surprisingly sensitive neck and Sherlock’s hand came up to tangle in Victor’s hair. “Mmm…definitely experienced,” Sherlock mumbled as Victor nipped and licked at each spot he sucked on, teasing Sherlock mercilessly.

“I didn’t realise I had a gorgeous genius in my lap,” Victor mumbled against Sherlock’s neck. “Otherwise I would’ve tried to get you to talk to me earlier,” he added with a chuckle that vibrated through Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock was completely stunned. He’d managed to find another person besides John who found his intelligence to be impressive, something to be praised instead of feared or mocked, and this person was somebody who wanted to kiss him and who thought he was gorgeous. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and Sherlock could practically feel himself becoming drunk on the sensation more quickly than when he’d gotten buzzed from the alcohol. “Mm. Absolutely beautiful,” Victor mumbled as he came back up to kiss Sherlock again, holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sherlock would get up and leave if he didn’t.

 

\-----

 

Sherlock stayed in Victor’s lap for as long as he and John stayed at the club, snogging the older man when the music was loud and talking when it got a little quieter, and Sherlock quickly felt himself becoming what he identified as infatuated. He recognised the symptoms, and he was well aware of the chemicals that were rushing through his slightly fuzzy mind, but it was entirely different from what he’d ever expected, feeling that rush of chemicals that he could name so easily. Sherlock made sure to measure Victor’s pulse and he could see Victor’s pupils dilate ever so slightly each time Sherlock exposed his intelligence, and by the end of the next three hours Sherlock was fairly sure that Victor was into him, too.  Sherlock knew that he should’ve felt bad about leaving John to his own devices for so long, but John had snogged the girl for a while before disappearing onto the dance floor for half an hour before stumbling back, sweating and laughing and pulling the same girl along behind him before pushing said girl up against the nearest accessible wall to feel her up a little and resume kissing her, and so Sherlock figured he shouldn’t feel too bad about letting Victor monopolise him for the time being.

“Victor,” Sherlock breathed at one point when Victor’s lips were pressed to his neck again. “Victor, I have classes tomorrow,” Sherlock murmured reluctantly, his hands coming up to cup against the back of Victor’s neck and tangle in his hair. “I have to go,” Sherlock added even more reluctantly, especially since Victor seemed to be completely disregarding him in favour of continuing to tease Sherlock’s neck. “I’m serious,” Sherlock laughed, pushing playfully on Victor’s chest, grinning as the other man pulled back to pout up at him.

“Oh come on, Sher. You’re far too much fun, I don’t want you to leave yet,” Victor simpered, his hands rubbing Sherlock’s back. “I’m not done playing,” Victor added, his fingertips drumming maddeningly against Sherlock’s arse before his hands returned to rubbing the back of Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock hummed quietly and leaned forward to press his forehead against Victor’s and he breathed deeply, trying to get up the nerve to climb out of his comfortable position on Victor’s lap.

Sherlock blinked his eyes open when he felt a hesitant tap on his shoulder and he turned his head to find John standing there looking sheepish and thoroughly snogged. “Hi, John Watson,” John said with a hesitant smile, introducing himself to Victor.

“Victor Trevor. Can we help you?” Victor asked, making Sherlock’s stomach do a little flip as Victor lumped the two of them together as one unit.

“Yeah, sorry but Sherlock and I need to be getting back to campus. Got early classes,” John shrugged, reaching up to rub his fingers through his hair, and it was only then that Sherlock noted with amusement that there was a mobile number written on his hand in a girl’s neat hand-writing.

“Your…boyfriend?” Victor asked Sherlock quietly in a voice meant only for him. Sherlock smiled reassuringly and shook his head, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Victor’s nose.

“Friend. Who is absolutely right, I need to go, no matter how comfortable you are,” Sherlock chuckled, readjusting a little bit on Victor’s lap. He glanced around at the bar for a pen and was slightly surprised to find one within his reach and he snatched it up, snagging Victor’s hand to carefully write his basically unused mobile number on Victor’s warm, soft palm. “There. Please text me?” Sherlock asked with a pleading look in his eyes. He was slightly confused when Victor gently took the pen from him and picked up his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before turning his hand over to expose his palm. Sherlock smiled as Victor wrote his own number down and Sherlock curled his fingers in toward his palm protectively.

“I’d have to be completely mental not to text you,” Victor murmured with a happy smile and another soft kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “But if you get impatient or worried, you are perfectly welcome to text me first. There’s no way I’m letting you slip away from me now that I’ve found you,” Victor added, nuzzling his nose gently against Sherlock’s. Sherlock blushed and slipped reluctantly from Victor’s lap, kissing him one last time before letting John lead him away. Sherlock constantly glanced over his shoulder as he walked across the club, catching Victor watching after him each time, the man already taking sips of his drink now that Sherlock wasn’t there to keep him busy.

Sherlock was in a bit of a daze as he and John walked back to the university, though he did pay enough attention to hear John say that the girl he’d found was named Sarah Sawyer and that she seemed to be absolutely lovely, and for the sake of keeping up a semblance of normalcy he supplied that he’d been snogging a man named Victor Trevor who, unbelievably, seemed to be perfectly accepting of Sherlock’s most annoying and abrasive quirk. Sherlock smiled slightly when John replied with enthusiasm and Sherlock couldn’t seem to stop looking at the number written carefully on his hand.

When Sherlock returned to his dorm, having walked with John to his first so they could say goodnight and talk a little bit about their anatomy project as a bit of a nicety, he stripped down completely naked and flopped down on his sheets, staring up at his hand so he could make sure to put the number into his phone exactly how it had been written. Sherlock smiled at the first contact in his phone that wasn’t Mycroft or his parents and Sherlock set his mobile carefully on the corner of his desk before standing up to turn out his light, crawling back in bed and curling up happily under his sheets, feeling warm and content at least partly due to the alcohol in his blood, but mostly because he’d just been thoroughly and properly snogged by somebody who knew what they were doing and who had promised to continue talking to him once they’d separated.

Sherlock dropped off to sleep quickly, thoughts of Victor still fresh in his mind, and he dreamed pleasant dreams for once, ones that he would be sure to remember in the morning, when he was woken up by a buzzing near his head.

_Good morning, gorgeous. Glad I got to you first. Have a good day in your classes; maybe we can go out later when they’re over? I was thinking we could either go to the cinema or out to lunch or something, if you’re up to it. Let me know – I’d also be happy to come and study with you. Anything to see you again. Talk to you later. -VT_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I would've put the note at the beginning but I didn't want to spoil any of the goodies that went on in this chapter. For you hardcore Johnlock fans, don't worry, I've got plans. But for now, I wanted to play around with the two of them being in a friendship together while they both try to juggle new relationships. It should be a pretty interesting dynamic :) Hope you liked it, sorry if it was a little too out of character, I blame it on the alcohol. As always, feel free to comment!


	4. Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into Sherlock's first relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter isn't very Johnlockish at all because of who Sherlock's partner is at the moment, and I'm sorry if that's not really anybody's taste, but the Johnlock is coming up later, I promise. I just really really love the idea of exploring Sherlock's relationships with other people. Anyway, I hope you guys like it even if it's not everyone's preferred pairing - don't forget to leave a comment when you're through! Thanks :)

Sherlock grinned when he woke up the next morning to find the text from Victor and he instantly typed out a reply telling him that lunch would be great and that Sherlock would meet him at the main entrance of the campus. He hardly paid attention through his classes that morning, though it didn’t really matter as they weren’t doing anything terribly important and instead Sherlock just forced himself to push away the nervousness curling in his stomach – was he going to get stood up? Was Victor just playing him? Would Victor still want him when he wasn’t tipsy? – and instead just focus on the way Victor’s face had looked when Sherlock had walked away from him the night before, like he’d already wanted to spend all night sitting there with Sherlock so they could just keep kissing and talking, not even bothering to drink or dance even though they were at a club.

Sherlock could tell, when he was paying attention, that John was just as fidgety as he was and it only took one quick glance for Sherlock to realise that John was going out with the girl he’d met the night before and that he wasn’t quite so capable of pushing away his anxiety like Sherlock was. At one point during their anatomy lecture, Sherlock and John happened to glance at each other and it didn’t take more than a split second for them to both grin sheepishly as they recognised the nervousness in each other, and properly identified it as being anxious about their respective dates.

Sherlock hurried to pack up his things and his hands fumbled though he knew that hurrying to his next class wouldn’t make it pass any faster or get him to Victor any sooner. Sherlock looked up when he felt a hand on his arm and he found John standing there looking amused.

“What’s the rush, Sherlock?” John asked with a knowing smile, amusement still plain on his face. Sherlock blushed and finished shoving his things in his backpack before throwing it over his shoulder.

“Surely I don’t need to explain things,” Sherlock said teasingly, raising an eyebrow as he smirked just the smallest bit. “I would have thought it would be fairly obvious. And it’s not that I’m just so excited about my classes,” Sherlock added, suddenly feeling shy about mentioning Victor to John, though they’d just talked about him the night before.

“Ah I thought so. Well have fun with Victor,” John said with a smile, clapping a hand down on Sherlock’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie that Sherlock had only ever seen from the outside, had never experienced for himself.  Sherlock smiled a little uncertainly and was reassured when John instantly smiled back at him before turning and walking away. Sherlock figured he should’ve said something, but he wasn’t sure what there was to say so he just looked after John for a moment before hurrying out of the classroom himself to hurry to his next class, his thoughts, naturally, staying on Victor the entire time.

 

\-----

 

“Whoa, hey, good to see you, too,” Victor laughed breathlessly as Sherlock suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around his waist and buried his nose in the crook of Victor’s neck. Sherlock felt Victor’s arms slip around his shoulders after a moment and then he was being gently nudged back so Victor could lean in and kiss him firmly but sweetly – entirely different from the way they’d been kissing the night before. “Mm. Glad to see you’re not hung over,” Victor chuckled when he pulled back and Sherlock smiled as he untangled himself from Victor’s arms a little.

“I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to constitute a hangover the following morning,” Sherlock said nonchalantly, waving a hand carelessly in a dismissive gesture. “Just tipsy enough to think it was sane to climb into a stranger’s lap,” he added with a sly grin that widened a little as Victor laughed and tugged him closer again to press a quick kiss to his mouth, making Sherlock’s cheeks go just a little pink.

“Well I’m glad you were tipsy, then, because I get the feeling I would have had a hard time getting you to snog me under normal conditions,” Victor responded when he’d pulled away again and Sherlock just chuckled because he knew Victor was right, had he been sober he’d have never had the nerve to do any of the things he’d done the night before. Sherlock, instead of responding verbally, just grinned impishly and leaned down to kiss the side of Victor’s neck under the pretence of hugging him tightly again – they were still on the pavement at the front of the school campus, after all, and it wouldn’t do for them to just have a full-out snogging right there where other people could easily walk past – and he felt Victor’s hands come up to tangle in his hair and cup against the back of his neck. Sherlock could feel Victor melting against him a little and holding on tightly and Sherlock pulled away, smiling a little at the sight of Victor blinking in confusion at the sudden loss of contact.

“Alright, I don’t know what you’ve been doing all day but I’ve been in class and I’m hungry,” Sherlock said lightly with a chuckle as he watched Victor shake off his confusion after a moment.

“Mm lunch it is. Come on, I’ve got a good place in mind that you’d never suspect would be a good restaurant,” Victor finally said with a smile, holding out one hand which Sherlock immediately took, lacing their fingers together with a small smile so Victor could lead him wherever they were going.

Sherlock and Victor chattered idly as they walked, not in any sort of hurry, just enjoying each other’s company like they’d been unable to do the night before – and thankfully Victor had no problem with filling in a lot of the conversation that Sherlock couldn’t provide, or taking over when Sherlock started to feel slightly awkward or uncomfortable. When they got to the small, family-owned restaurant that looked like a coffee shop, Sherlock looked doubtfully at Victor, who just smiled at him.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. It’s a coffee shop, yes, but the owner makes great food. Come on,” Victor smiled with a tug on Sherlock’s hand to pull him forward so they could go in. Sherlock was greeted with the strong smell of coffee as soon as Victor pulled him into the slightly dim shop and then he heard soft guitar music coming from somewhere. They were greeted cheerfully by a plump woman behind the counter who looked like she was rushing but who also looked perfectly happy to be doing so and Sherlock found himself instantly relaxing in the laid-back but happy atmosphere of the little shop. Sherlock looked at Victor when the man nudged him lightly with his elbow and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at the look on Victor’s face that clearly said ‘I told you so’.

“Alright alright,” Sherlock laughed quietly, playfully pushing Victor with his elbow. “I stand corrected. Now come on, I’m starving,” Sherlock murmured, not wanting to disturb the people who were hanging around and reading or doing other quiet things.

Sherlock and  Victor found seats in the back corner of the cosy little building, away from pretty much everybody else, and they ate the food they’d gotten – which really was absolutely amazing, like Victor had promised – and then they sat there just talking. Sherlock was surprised by how easily he could make Victor laugh without humiliating himself, and he quickly realised that yes, he actually had managed to find somebody who might just like him for who he actually was, and who didn’t have some sort of ulterior motive for liking him. He’d found John, of course, but John was just his friend, and Victor was somebody who was willing to be in a romantic relationship with Sherlock despite the flaws Sherlock saw so clearly in himself.

That thought, though, led to the thought that Sherlock didn’t know exactly what type of relationship he currently had with Victor. They’d kissed and held hands and they were currently out on a date (that was going so well it made Sherlock have to sort of double check that he wasn’t dreaming everything) but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were _dating_ , not to Sherlock anyway. He’d have to ask Victor about that, but not right now. Right now he was planning to enjoy Victor’s attention and the fact that he seemed to want to be there just as much as Sherlock did.

 

\-----

 

After that first date, Sherlock and Victor spent as much time together as either of them could manage, though they’d both agreed at the beginning that sometimes they’d both need a bit of free time since they were both very solitary, independent men and to go from almost no contact to being in a close relationship was going to take some getting used to as well as some free time for the both of them to avoid getting on each other’s nerves. It was…perfect, basically, and Sherlock couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy.

At this particular moment, Sherlock was tutoring John in biology again in his room with Victor stretched out on Sherlock’s bed behind him, lazily typing on the laptop he’d brought with him. He was apparently in the middle of writing a difficult chapter of the novel that he was working on and he needed to work on it at every opportunity he could, and it didn’t bother Sherlock in the least since he was busy with John. Sherlock felt Victor’s hand rubbing his back every now and again in a gesture that was already familiar and expected – Victor liked to touch Sherlock at random times, like he was trying to make sure that Sherlock was still there, and Sherlock was quickly realising that he liked that little assurance as well as the little spark of happiness each time Victor wanted to reach out to him and initiate contact.

Sherlock and John spent a couple hours studying with Victor typing away quietly, keeping to himself unless he needed Sherlock’s help to think of a word he needed, and then they talked a little bit about the project they were doing in anatomy which was due in a few days. Sherlock had finished up the first half, the part involving the dissections he’d performed, and John needed a little help on how to format his reports but he knew the information he needed to put in them and everything was coming together perfectly fine.

When John left it was to go out on a date with Sarah, who had turned out to be, according to John, quite a sweet woman though she was a quite a bit different from how she’d come across at the club. But Sherlock was actually able to be happy for John as Sherlock now understood what it was like to be in a relationship. Victor still hadn’t officially asked Sherlock if he wanted to date him, but Sherlock was fine with taking things slow and letting them progress naturally; all throughout secondary school he’d seen his peers rush in and out of relationships and he didn’t want that to happen to him and Victor, for everything to be done so quickly that they ran out of things to do and eventually got bored. Not that Sherlock could ever think of himself or Victor as being boring, but it was still something he didn’t want to see happen to them.

Once John was gone, Sherlock put his books away and tidied up his room a little bit before heading over to his bed to lay down beside Victor, his head cushioned on the hollow of Victor’s shoulder as he slipped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders so he could continue typing with both hands even as he turned his head to press a soft kiss to Sherlock’s forehead.

“I am constantly amazed at how intelligent you are, Sher,” Victor murmured with a smile as he turned his attention back to the story he was typing. “I mean, it takes a lot of intelligence to be able to understand things as well as you do, but to be able to explain it so thoroughly for your friend whenever he has trouble...You’re just amazing,” Victor continued in a slightly-distracted mumble that Sherlock was learning meant that Victor was definitely paying attention to him, he was just having to use part of his attention to make sure he didn’t screw up as he typed.

Sherlock smiled at Victor’s praise but he didn’t respond at first, instead just tilting his head back and shifting a little closer to his side so he could press a soft kiss to Victor’s cheek, smiling as the man turned his head all the sudden and stopped typing to kiss Sherlock properly, bringing his hand up to cup Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock instantly slipped his arm across Victor’s chest and pushed closer to him, feeling Victor’s arm slip down from his shoulders to wrap tightly around Sherlock’s waist. It was a slightly awkward position but Sherlock didn’t care because he loved it when Victor randomly started kissing him like that, and so he’d never complain about the position they were in.

Sherlock heard Victor snap the laptop shut gently and set it aside with the hand that had been on Sherlock’s cheek and he smiled a little bit against Victor’s lips as that meant that Sherlock could fully expect a long, proper snogging session if Victor was putting away his work for a little while. Sherlock laid out on his back and tugged Victor over on top of him, staying still as Victor’s legs stretched out on either side of his, his elbows supporting some of his weight on either side of Sherlock’s upper arms. Sherlock always felt sort of caged in when Victor was on top of him like that, but he had been surprised to realise that he actually quite liked the feeling as opposed to being uncomfortable with it like he’d originally thought he would be.

Sherlock and Victor stayed like that for a long time, just stretched out together on Sherlock’s bed, alternating between kissing softly and passionately, changing things whenever they felt like it. Victor pulled away after a while with obvious reluctance and Sherlock couldn’t resist glancing at Victor’s watch to see that they’d been snogging for nearly forty-five minutes. Sherlock always lost track of time when he was kissing Victor and it never failed to surprise him how easily he could lay in one spot and do absolutely nothing but kiss Victor for almost an hour without getting bored.

“I’ve got to get back to work, babe,” Victor sighed, leaning down again to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s, brushing their lips together softly once or twice. “My publisher’s being an arse, he won’t quit bugging me about my deadline that’s close but still far enough away that I can easily afford to spend more time with you than I need to spend on my writing.” Victor sighed again and slipped off of Sherlock to sit up and cross his legs as he pulled the laptop closer again, opening it up and clacking out the long password. Sherlock sat up as he heard the now-familiar sound of Victor’s laptop starting up again and he rested his cheek on Victor’s shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing slowly in and out as his hand idly traced the outside of Victor’s thigh.

“Victor?” Sherlock asked, wanting to have Victor’s complete attention before he started typing again.

“Yeah babe?” Victor asked, his voice warm with affection as he used the familiar endearment that Sherlock had never thought he’d like, but that he definitely did – though Sherlock figured that that might just be because it was Victor calling him ‘babe’ as he somehow managed to not make it sound condescending.

“Are we dating?” Sherlock asked awkwardly, pressing a kiss to Victor’s shoulder. The man’s surprise was almost palpable and Sherlock blushed a little and looked up at Victor through his eyelashes, his lips still pressed to Victor’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked, confusion creating a little crease between his eyebrows and Sherlock tilted his head a little to prop his chin up on Victor’s shoulder.

“Well I mean obviously we go out on dates and you come here a lot and we kiss and everything, but I was just wondering if we’re actually in a relationship or if we’re just sort of waiting?” Sherlock asked, his own face becoming a mask of confusion as he tried to figure out how to word what he wanted to ask. Sherlock blushed a little more as Victor smiled at him fondly and kissed his forehead.

“I know what you’re asking, babe, it’s alright.” It was almost frightening how well Victor could read Sherlock’s unspoken emotions already. “I think it was more like waiting. I mean of course I know that I want to be in a relationship with you, and we’re already together for the most part, but I wanted to wait to actually start officially dating you until we knew each other a little better, since we did meet in a club and went on a date the next day, you know? But if you’d like to go ahead and make it official, I think we’d be safe in saying that we’re going to stay together for a while,” Victor said with a reassuring smile that Sherlock instantly returned. Victor had answered his convoluted and unclear question perfectly and Sherlock felt relieved that Victor understood him so well.

“I’d like to make it official,” Sherlock said with another smile and kiss to Victor’s shoulder.

“Okay. Then we’re officially boyfriends,” Victor said happily before turning his attention back to his laptop and Sherlock slipped behind Victor to wrap his arms around his waist from behind and rest his cheek on Victor’s shoulder blade, closing his eyes as he heard the familiar sound of keys clacking softly fill the silence as his boyfriend started writing again, his fingers expertly tapping out the story that Sherlock wasn’t allowed to know until it was finished as Victor was self-conscious about his unfinished work, which Sherlock understood perfectly.

Sherlock stayed like that until it was too late for Victor to go home and then he sat there longer; Victor seemed not to notice the passing time and Sherlock certainly wasn’t going to remind him that he needed to leave at some point. Sherlock occasionally pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Victor’s neck or to his shoulder, just anywhere he could comfortably reach, but other than that he stayed still against Victor’s back, just counting his heartbeats and listening to the steady whoosh of air as Victor breathed slowly in and out. Sherlock knew well that Victor was prone to stress out when he was writing, and so Sherlock could also tell that Victor was only so relaxed and calm because Sherlock was there to kiss him and hold him and make sure he didn’t lose his temper.

Somewhere around two in the morning, just when Sherlock was considering going to sleep and letting Victor up to head over to the desk to continue working, Victor saved his work and sent it off in a quick email to his publisher before closing the laptop with a sigh, leaning over to set it on the floor beside Sherlock’s bed before he shifted around a little and turned so that he was facing Sherlock.

“You’re far too good to me,” Victor smiled fondly, lines of tiredness around his mouth and eyes the only thing betraying how exhausted he was from too many late nights and not enough time to sleep in as he fought to make his deadline. “You could’ve gone to sleep, babe, I wouldn’t have minded,” Victor added, leaning in to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s, their eyes slipping closed as they both breathed in deeply and leaned in even closer at the same instant, drawn inexplicably forward to kiss each other tenderly by some force that neither of them had ever bothered to explain. Sherlock could feel it, though – there was a cord tied in a knot underneath his ribs that seemed to pass through the intercostal space that formed the latticework of his ribcage. Until now, it had been limp and lifeless, functionally useless and leaving nothing but a tender sore that ached, an empty hole that couldn’t be filled. But when Sherlock kissed Victor, something tugged on that cord and drew it taught, connected it to something and gave it a purpose again, leaving the jagged wound free to heal up around the cord. Sherlock was never one for poetry or sentimentality or anything of the sort, but there was no logical explanation for the way he and Victor seemed to understand each other on some genetic level, in some realm that transcended the physical and as such could only be explained in pompous and poetic terms.

“I know I could’ve,” Sherlock murmured with kiss-reddened lips after Victor had pulled away from him a little. “But I wanted to stay up with you, I wanted to sit here with you and make sure that you didn’t stress yourself out,” Sherlock murmured, bringing one hand up to rub his palm carefully against the soft cotton covering Victor’s chest. Sherlock smiled sweetly as Victor’s eyes softened further and he looked at Sherlock with so much tenderness that it made Sherlock suddenly shy, though he didn’t break his eye contact with Victor.

“How could anyone ever find you to be less than amazing?” Victor asked, and by now Sherlock knew that this was not the time to start listing off all of his shortcomings. After another moment or two of studying Sherlock’s face, Victor pulled away in favour of laying down on one side of Sherlock’s bed, settling in on his side before wrapping his arm that wasn’t pinned down around Sherlock’s chest. Victor tugged Sherlock down gently and started kissing him again the instant Sherlock’s back hit the mattress with a soft thump. Sherlock wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck as the older man’s hand traced up and down his chest and stomach, never straying lower than Sherlock’s navel.

“Hmm…Victor? I need to turn out the light,” Sherlock mumbled against Victor’s mouth after a few soft kisses and he felt Victor press down more firmly, a smirk curling across his lips as he held Sherlock down with so little pressure that Sherlock could easily sit up if he wanted to.

“No you don’t, you need to stay in bed with me,” Victor chuckled as he kissed Sherlock clumsily a few times before flopping down onto his back with a small sigh. “Mm hurry back. I’m comfortable and tired but I want to keep kissing you for a while,” Victor continued as Sherlock sat up. Sherlock heard movement on his bed that he couldn’t identify when he stood up but he went to turn out the light anyway, only realising what the noise had been when he slipped back under the covers with Victor and found that his boyfriend was shirtless. Sherlock blushed faintly and he felt Victor kiss his warm cheek softly before making his way back to Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock ran his hands through Victor’s hair softly and then skimmed his hands across Victor’s broad shoulders, shivering a little as he felt bare skin against his sensitive palms. Sherlock blushed a little deeper when he felt Victor straddle his hips and move his hands to his chest, Victor’s fingers toying idly with the top button of Sherlock’s shirt, silently asking permission to unbutton it. Sherlock arched his back a little to push his chest closer to Victor’s hands and he carefully ran the tip of his tongue along Victor’s bottom lip, hoping that that much would be able to convey that yes, he wanted the older man to unbutton his shirt for him. Victor smiled against Sherlock’s lips and then his fingers were deftly moving down Sherlock’s chest and stomach and Sherlock was honestly rather impressed that Victor could get him undressed so quickly – though Sherlock supposed he should’ve been able to guess that he could based on how quickly Victor could type when he was full of ideas that would work for his book.

Once Victor was able to push the panels of fabric away from Sherlock’s skin, he ducked down after one last quick kiss to Sherlock’s mouth to press an open-mouthed kiss to Sherlock’s collarbone, his soft lips a caress against Sherlock’s skin that was surprisingly sensitive. Sherlock wouldn’t have thought that having anything but his mouth or ear kissed would feel particularly good at all, but he was more sensitive than he’d thought and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from making a noise of pleasure. Sherlock rubbed his fingertips into Victor’s shoulders lightly instead and he was rewarded with the swipe of a tongue along the contours of his collarbone and Sherlock breathed out shakily, a reaction that wasn’t lost on Victor as he repeated the long, soft caress when Sherlock was least expecting it a few kisses later. Sherlock shifted his hips a little and dug his fingertips more firmly into Victor’s shoulder, pressing his head into the pillow just a little bit.

“God you’re so…responsive,” Victor mumbled with a small smirk against Sherlock’s skin, dragging his lips up Sherlock’s neck and along his jaw until he could kiss him again, a kiss that Sherlock eagerly returned and deepened almost immediately, slipping his arms around Victor’s neck again to hold him there. Sherlock and Victor both breathed in sharply when their bare chests pressed together and Sherlock could felt something akin to an electric shock slip lazily through his limbs like everything except his and Victor’s mouths was moving in slow motion.

Victor and Sherlock continued to kiss lazily but fairly passionately for almost fifteen minutes before Victor pulled away again and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s high cheekbone.

“Sherlock, I need to go to sleep and so do you,” Victor murmured, though he wasn’t so quiet that Sherlock couldn’t hear the reluctance in his voice.

“I know, but isn’t this so much better than sleeping?” Sherlock asked teasingly, opening his eyes as Victor pulled away to look down at him, studying Victor’s face in the warm darkness of his room, fingers coming up to idly trace Victor’s features that were almost perfectly symmetrical and proportional in a way hardly anybody’s were, which was part of what made him so attractive.

“It is,” Victor conceded with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Sherlock’s finger when it brushed against the slight gap between his parted lips. “But that doesn’t change the fact that if I keep kissing you I’m going to fall asleep on top of you, which would be less fun,” Victor added with a chuckle.

Sherlock pouted a little and huffed out a frustrated breath – he’d never been so resentful of his body’s need for rest as much as he was right now – but nodded just a little in agreement to sleeping and he closed his eyes as Victor pressed a soft kiss to his mouth before laying down on his side, his back to the rest of the room as he curled up in the way that Sherlock couldn’t instantly mirror, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Sherlock sat up briefly with a quiet groan and slipped out of his shirt, smirking when he felt Victor’s palm on his back as Sherlock wadded up his expensive shirt and threw it off to the side, hearing it hit the floor with a quiet thump of fabric on tile. Sherlock laid back down on his side facing away from Victor and Sherlock felt Victor’s arm slip around him instantly, pulling him back at the same time as Sherlock shifted closer to Victor, only stopping when his back was pressed so firmly against Victor’s chest that he could feel Victor’s heartbeat.

“Goodnight Sherlock,” Victor murmured into Sherlock’s mussed curls, the accompanying sigh ruffling Sherlock’s hair slightly. Sherlock closed his eyes and hummed quietly in response and he felt Victor’s lips press into his hair. As Sherlock and Victor fell asleep at pretty much the same rate, Sherlock’s heartbeat slowed down to keep pace with Victor’s, their breathing synchronised as their legs tangled together slowly underneath the sheet. 


End file.
